


not only his eyes

by Crimsonette



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Magnus Bane's Cat Eyes, Newly established relationship, Or 4+2, Semantics, Switching POV Alec and Magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12842763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimsonette/pseuds/Crimsonette
Summary: It’s not every day one gets to see Magnus in all his cat-eyed glory, and Alec is determined to witness every chance he gets.OrFour times Alec and co. see glimpses of Magnus’ cat eyes and the time Alec sees it all.





	not only his eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So, Magnus’ cat eyes. Because I can’t get enough of it.
> 
> I have very much wanted to share this for the longest time and am glad to finally be able to do so.
> 
> I hope you’ll like it! Enjoy!

**1.** _A quiet arrow and a crackling whip makes for a lethal yet tender pair_

Alec is half-sitting half-leaning on the edge of a table in the weapons room, one leg propped up and the other firm on the ground for balance. The faint glow of a newly ignited rune carved in the adamas arrow lighting up his features.

He appreciates lone moments like this when he gets to prep for a new mission. It gives him something to focus on and time to think.

After Alec’s farce of a wedding caused by his own lack of self-interest, increased frustration caused by a certain parabatai being taken away, and very nearly _died_ trying to bring back said parabatai, he finally has some room to breathe.

To wonder.

To explore and relish in newfound feelings.

He knows this little pocket of peace in the middle of a battle wrought whirlwind will not last. But never once has it stopped his mind from drifting towards one Magnus Bane, as it often does ever since he met the gorgeous man.

He can no longer deny – nor does he want to – his growing attraction to the man. He likes Magnus. _Really_ likes him. Wants him, even. All to himself. He hopes it’s not too selfish a thought.

He remembers their first kiss; awkward but intense, unfamiliar but captivating. How Magnus saw him for who he could become, challenged his life-long beliefs, provided him a chance at happiness, gave him courage to overturn everything for his own benefit for once in his life. And that courage brought him determination to walk towards Magnus and carve his own path in the process.

He thinks of the encouraging grip on his waist, the reassuring touch to his arm, a gentle brush to his neck. That it all means something.

He thinks of those expressive eyes laced with fondness when Magnus looks at him, seeing him. Then, he thinks of what he would find, if given the chance, beyond those deep chocolate brown eyes.

Anyone who hears Alec say he was not intrigued after meeting Magnus Bane in the flesh is an ill-concealed lie. The need to find out who this man is, plus a little bit of childhood curiosity, had him pulled up every resource available on the high warlock.

So he knows. He knows about Magnus’ warlock mark. But he will never ask or demand to see them, because that would be rude and inappropriate. It doesn’t stop him from wondering though.

He wonders what colour they would be, if it resembles and has the capabilities of the real thing. He wants to know Magnus’ view of the entire world, whether it looks the same to him with or without the glamour. And he wonders if he’s too hopeful for wondering that maybe one day, Magnus might be comfortable enough to share that part of himself with Alec.

Alec decides that he will take whatever Magnus is willing to give him.

The approaching clack of heels on tiles cut through Alec’s reverie. As the reverberation stops, Alec stows the last arrow into his quiver and looks up to see his sister leaning against the door frame, waiting.

“You ready, big brother?” Izzy asks.

He gives a quick nod. “Yeah, let’s go.”

It was supposed to be a regular routine check based on a report on demon activity in a decrepit abandoned building. The Lightwood duo did not expect to stumble upon an attempted kidnapping.

Fortunately, it’s part of their job description so everything is under control.

An escaped Shax demon led the siblings to a back alley. In the cloak of the night, the alley is dim and dank, earthy scent accentuated by fresh rain lightly hitting on asphalt, the only source of light coming from the waning crescent in the sky. Both sound and visual are significantly dampened.

Perfect night for a hunt.

As they watch speckles of dark ash evaporate into nothingness, Alec hears a distressed cry. It’s small, struggling to break through the sound of rain, but he hears it.

Careful in keeping their presence hidden with stealth rune and careful steps, Alec and Izzy hurry their pace and rounds a corner.

Two figures; one significantly smaller is thrashing and wriggling in the hold of a taller, larger man. A pale-white hand covered over half of the child’s face in forced silence and another over the child’s abdomen and thin arms, in a way that restricts movement of her wrists.

Alec can see something sharp and claw-y peeking out of the long sleeves of the dress the child wore.

“Stop!” Alec shouts.

The pale figure startles at the shout, hold momentarily loosen. A glint in the dark, a yelp and a splash-thump a second later, the assailant is child-free and staring disbelieving eyes at the little girl slumped on the wet ground.

Alec keeps his eyes on the man. He can now clearly see clawed wounds beneath torn sleeves, new ones beginning to form in scarlet strips, shimmering red rivulets dripping down the assailant’s chin, and fangs bared in indignation.

He immediately shoots an arrow towards the right and Izzy’s whip flanks the left. Instead of engaging combat, the assailant escapes in vampire speed.

Alec started to move in pursuit but hearing soft whimpers stops him. He looks to his left and down to see the child curled in on herself, hands hugging her knees close to her body in a defensive posture, and trembling from the cold. She looks about nine or ten.

Izzy is by her side, hands rubbing comfortingly up and down the child’s back and making soothing shushing noise.

Shrugging off his jacket as he crouches on the ball of his feet, one knee touching the ground in front of the child, he gently drapes the water-resistant nylon around the shivering body. Alec and Izzy position themselves so that their bodies shelter the child from the drizzle.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Alec says, voice soft. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

When the child raises her glistening eyes and locks on Alec’s, he introduces himself and Izzy. Alec thinks she’s a brave young girl for not giving up, for shouting out for help, and told her as much. 

The child offers a timid smile and tells them to call her Eve. She says she doesn’t remember entirely what happened and just really, really wants to go home to her guardians now, change into her rabbit-print pyjamas with her matching fluffy rabbit night slippers, and if allowed, a cup of hot chocolate before going to bed would be extremely nice.

Totally understandable.

“Don’t worry,” Izzy assures. “We’re going to help you get home, find out who did this to you then kick their sorry a– I mean, catch the bad guys for good.”

Eve blinks her watery eyes, sniffles, her bright eyes even brighter when she says, “I hope you do kick their sorry ass. Whoever it is.”

Alec chuckles. “Of course.”

There’s only one place, one person Alec trusts to go for help in a situation like this.

To the loft it is.

Izzy had sent a text ten minutes before arriving so was not surprised to see Magnus holding towels in one hand when he opens the door for them. Even with three stacked warm-looking fluffy beige towels in hand, Magnus still manage to look regal.

The warlock’s eyes soften when his gaze lands on Eve wrapped up snuggly in Alec’s jacket, head resting on Alec’s shoulder, all rosy cheeked and content despite what she had gone through not half an hour prior. Magnus snaps his fingers to try dry their clothes before ushering them in.

Izzy distributes the towels and sits with Eve on the couch to dry her hair while Alec fills Magnus in. Magnus, because he is always so understanding, nods calmly and squeezes Alec’s hand in silent thanks.

Eve blinks wide awake when the distinct aroma of hot chocolate permeates the loft. Magnus had conjured one for each of them. She beams and takes a tentative sip.

Keeping their hands warm on the mug, Alec and Izzy settles on the swivel stools around the kitchen island across the living room. From this angle, Alec gets to observe the profiles of the warlocks, young and old, currently sitting on the couch.

He hears Magnus’ warm, gentle tone – and promptly takes a sip of the warm liquid before his sister catches him smiling to Magnus’ voice – when he speaks the girl’s name and inquires the whereabouts of her home and guardians.

As the conversation went on, Alec notice Eve fidgeting in her seat, moist gathering at the corner of her eyes but holding on, and small hands bunching up the material in her floral dress. No doubt she’s recollecting and piecing together the events that happened that evening. Or trying to, judging from her continuous shaking of her head.

Magnus must have sensed Eve’s escalating distress for he gets up and kneels in front of her to look at her properly eye-to-eye. She looks up at the older warlock beneath her lashes, Magnus gave her an encouraging smile and then: something gold and brilliant flashes in his eyes as he says something to her.

A delighted smile immediately catches on Eve’s face. She cautiously held out her hand in the space between them. One moment Alec sees a typical child’s hand and the next he sees the dark beige skin on her hand _transforms_ into bright yellow skin, sharp claws and black eagle talons protruding at the end of each digit as the glamour slips and _oh–_

In the corner of his mind, Alec belatedly realise that her talons were the cause of the vampire’s grievance, it gave him wounds and a hard time dragging her to who knows where. It was also her talons that saved her in that one opportune moment when the vampire got careless.

At the forefront, however, Alec lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His brain is reeling and trying to catch up on what he just witnessed: a glimpse of Magnus’ true self – albeit just a few seconds of it. The angle was not possible for Alec to see the slits, or the beautiful molten irises that Alec is sure he would see if he stood in front of Magnus.

Despite that, he feels he has seen a moment so rare and precious that could only be captured in a blink.

The exchange seemed like a sign of trust, camaraderie, and comfort given from one warlock to the other. He is truly glad to have witnessed it in an act of compassion between two people from different generations. And judging from the faint pressure on his forearm and knowing look when he turns to glance at Izzy, he knows his sister too, understands.

 

**2.** _These parabatais and one stoic vamp will warn you of an impending doom while the cute nerd (with the cute fangs) warns you of an impending badassery_

Since Evelyn’s incident a few days ago, Magnus had fire messaged the warlocks to remain vigilant of the young ones and contacted Raphael to inquire of suspicious vampire activities in the vicinity. When that turned out nil, he had requested the vampire clan leader to keep a look out.

Magnus is pretty sure Evelyn was not the first kidnap attempt. The warlocks who had young ones in their care or know of any – which were not many to begin with – mentioned that sometimes the young ones come back from an errand in a daze, but were not harmed physically or mentally, so they had left it at that.

Magnus thinks there’s a high possibility that the children have been encanto-ed to ensure secrecy.

He sighs and mentally works through the information again.

A vampire abducts a warlock child and then using encanto so that the process could be repeated. It’s meant to be a long-term plan, for as long as they don’t get caught. A psycho planning genocide with an evil side hobby to mess with people’s head maybe, but vampires? That’s unprecedented. The only reasons that could be useful to vampires are: one, blood and two, as bargaining chip – political or otherwise. Since there are no immediate threats on the warlock’s end, logic leans to the former.

He needs to find out what’s going on. He needs questions answered, and soon.

Some time after the last rays of yellow, orange and red has sunken below the horizon, Magnus receives a call from Raphael on a possible lead.

Of all recently-Turned vampire, _Simon_ had overheard a few clan defectors talking about a meeting of some sort while on his way to Jade Wolf. And because the boy has little to no self-preservation accompanied by an unawareness of his own tendency to get abducted, Simon had followed them to an empty warehouse in downtown Manhattan. Alone.

Everyone Magnus knows these days seem to have a long-standing affiliation with _don’t mind me, I’m just gonna go throw myself in the face of danger now,_ consequences be damned.

Snapping the portal close, Magnus heaves a small sigh of relief when he saw Simon shifting awkwardly next to Raphael. He is also pleasantly surprised and uncomfortably anxious at the same time to see two black clad shadowhunters standing with the night children.

Don’t get him wrong, it isn’t that he doesn’t want Alec around. He _always_ wants Alec around. Just. Maybe not for this. He’s not sure he’s ready to rear his ugly head to dissolve a Downworlder issue should the need arise with Alec by his side.

But he guesses Raphael had called Alec out of courtesy since Alec is as much involved in the case as the rest of them, if not more.

“Alexander,” he greets as he nears the group. “Jace, Raphael, Sherman,” he continues. Magnus gets a hey, followed by a muttered _it’s Simon by the way_ which he selectively chooses to ignore, acknowledging nods and a bonus mesmerising smile from Alec in response.

They agree on reconnaissance before doing anything drastic. That’s how Magnus found himself crouched on the external ledge of a warehouse loft with four grown men trying to eavesdrop on this so-called meeting through the ajar window.

This is apparently his life now.

There are seven vampires as far as silhouettes can tell him – the new moon shrouds the night in an even darker veil than usual, making it difficult for Magnus to identify their faces. But Alec recognises the tall, muscly vamp as Evelyn’s abductor, who is currently in a heated argument with a man with dark blonde hair Raphael identifies as Cecil.

Magnus cocks his head to the side, trying to pick up strips of the conversation here and there;

“–don’t think it’s a good idea, Cecil!”

“I doubt the shadowhunters… not breaking the Accords.”

“But they saw… few nights ago! I’m not risking it again.”

“–loss then. We’re not giving up the chance of acquiring the target tonight.”

Target? Tonight? Well then. Change of plans.

Which _does not_ include Jace backflipping off the ledge and bursting through the front door like the heroic golden boy everyone think he is. Jace is allegedly more dramatic than Magnus in the battlefront. So Magnus rolls his eyes, walks down the stairs and follows through.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our old friend Raphael and his…” Cecil glance at Jace and Alec with disdain, then a tinge of surprise at Magnus before schooling his expression back into some semblance of control, “…mismatched merry band of meeting crashers. I believe this is a private gathering and your invitations are non-existent.”

The rest of the vampires fell back in line with Cecil whom Magnus assumes is their leader. A typical passive aggressive formation.

Magnus’ group is a little outnumbered but their opponents’ only path to freedom is strategically blocked by the ‘mismatched merry band’ as Cecil puts it, with Magnus at the far end by the window. Besides, Jace prides himself as a one man army.

And Alec, oh Alec, Magnus is charmed, if not slightly amused by how Alec subtly shifts half a step forward so that one side of his body is always in front of Magnus, shielding him. Magnus trusts Alec completely and has to resist a giddy smile threatening to spread across his face to focus once more.

“Stop wasting our time and cut the crap.” Jace snaps, seraph blade in hand, always so eager to start a fight. “We heard what you’re planning and we’re going to stop you by taking you in.”

A sarcastic high-pitched laugh echo in the large space. “On what grounds? Sure, we’re getting our blood supplies from an alternate source,” Cecil admits, before continuing confidently, “we still adhere to the law and etiquettes. None of them were harmed and were returned healthier than ever.”

“You’re not going to get away with kidnapping _children_ , forcing them in captivity and drinking their blood against their will, you know. It’s a major crime in human society, like, long-term jail and life sentences and everything, and certainly a crime in the shadow world too I th—woah okay. _Okay._ ”

Simon stumbles back a couple steps when the hostile vampires unanimously bare their fangs at him, hissing ominously.

Raphael moves forward, an arm outstretched to placate. “Why are you drinking the blood of Lilith’s children, Cecil? Warlock’s blood does not mix well with our kind. It does us more harm than good.”

Cecil flicks his eyes to Magnus, then quickly looks back to Raphael. “We’re doing this to protect ourselves Raphael. What with Valentine running free planning to annihilate us downworlders, I thought it best to step up our game. Question is, why are _you_ allying yourself with these _shadowhunters_? They’ve never, and will never be on our side.”

Raphael frowns that deep frown like someone has questioned his entire life choices (close, really) and shoots a glare that says _none of your fricking business._

Alec takes the reign before things can go further off track, reiterating Raphael’s question: “What do you mean by stepping up your game? How is that relevant to kidnapping young warlocks?”

Cecil hesitates, like he’s unsure if it’s safe to divulge such information. His eyes turn panicky, darting and searching for something around the warehouse.

He must have found what he was looking for because his expression turns smug when he says, “Fine. Maybe this will educate you.” A pause. “Young warlock blood is safe for us to consume, provided we don’t overfeed. It boosts our vitality and strength twice as much than mundane blood does. Lasts longer too. The potency of their demonic essence in their blood is not enough to harm us because–”

“Because children are not tainted,” Magnus finishes, as simple as that. It is not common knowledge, it’s impossible for someone like Cecil to know this. Someone else is pulling the strings. He can feel his magic uncoil from his core, channelling like streams alongside his boiling blood through his veins. Because how _dare_ he drag the little ones into this war.

Magnus saw it coming.

Cecil was buying time for his escape, signalling the others behind his back to destroy the already dim lamps simultaneously to create a blackout.

Raphael and Simon could match them in speed and strength, Alec and Jace have both nyx and speed runes. That would leave Magnus; the supposed weak link in the lineup. Magnus would applaud Cecil for trying, but he clearly seems to have forgotten something.

Between half a second and the next, Magnus wills his pupils to slits. His field of vision spans, allowing objects to come into focus in an instant. His retina giving him superior ability to see in the complete darkness.

Magnus sees Cecil veer off to the side, an act of caution, before lunging straight for Magnus to get to the open window. Flames enveloped Magnus’ right hand, enforcing his own strength to neutralise the punch aimed at his sternum. A look of shock crosses Cecil’s face as he stares wide-eyed at Magnus with disbelief.

“You forget, Cecil. I’m the High Warlock of Brooklyn. If you touch _my_ people, you’ll have _me_ to answer to.”

With Magnus’ right fist in a lock with Cecil’s, he uses his left to push a ball of yellow-orange flame right into Cecil’s body, the powerful momentum blasting the vampire against the wall. Cecil’s back makes a sickening crack before falling unconscious on the floor. The warlock claps once then push his palms outwards and a pulsing blue shockwave effectively knocks out the remaining of Cecil’s group, lights up the lamps and blue tendrils of magic snap tight around its captives as makeshift ropes.

Magnus takes a deep breathe, glamour slipping into place.

He didn’t want to resort to heavy magic if he didn’t have to. That was the ugly side of the scenario he wanted very much to avoid. But drastic times requires drastic measures, et cetera, et cetera.

The whole thing merely lasted twenty seconds. And the others were busy fending off sharp claws and fangs. Maybe they didn’t see Magnus raging like a –

“Wow, that was amazing! It was like watching the live version of a Marvel movie, you know? Totally Scarlet Witch vibe. And your eyes glowed–”

– apparently not.

“–like Iron Man’s! Except his was tech-y and yours was all–”

“ _Simon_.” The warning tone in Raphael’s usual low timbre is enough to interrupt Simon’s rant.

Simon looks back and forth between Magnus and Raphael, then to Magnus’ left, expression turning sheepish with an ‘oh’ forming around his mouth.

“Right, sorry. I’ll just– yeah.”

Simon takes three steps and backtracks. “I just want to say, Magnus. I’m a huge fan.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to say to that, so he quirks his lips a tiny bit in quiet amusement.

Raphael narrows his eyes at Simon’s retreating back, Jace following him, and huffs softly as he turns to Magnus. He straightens his back to stand a little taller, eyeing the man in front of him with respect.

“Thank you for helping, Magnus. I think we can take it from here.”

Magnus nods slowly. He’s afraid to look to his left, afraid of what he knows he would have to come to terms with, knowing Alec is standing right there. Magnus turns his head ever so slightly, ready to face apprehension, disgust, indifference if he gets lucky, or heaven forbid, _fear_ in those pretty hazels.

But what he finds there is a combination of wonder, pride, a little bit of mirth, and something else Magnus can’t identify that takes his breathe away. And Alec is still looking at him like… like he might be a fan too.

Alec conveys with that sweet private smile of his, while delicately slipping Magnus’ hand into his own and squeezing softly, reassuringly, and Magnus’ heart all but stutters into staccato rhythms he suspects will not slow down any time soon.

It makes Magnus feel light-headed, emotions swirling inside of him in warm bursts.

He thinks maybe. Just maybe. Alexander Lightwood might be the first to accept everything he has to give.

 

**3**. _In one calloused hand of a seasoned archer, the other a newly born warrior, held thy memories_

The next time Alec gets to see Magnus’ real eyes in the company of another after Max’s party is when Jace and Clary came back from the unsanctioned mission to Idris.

They had retrieved Valentine’s journals from the cabin, hoping to find some clues.

The three of them are in one of the study rooms, riffling and sorting through the pile of leather bound books of various size and colour.

Some of the books doesn’t belong to Valentine and Alec considers it a small victory because one of them is filled with Chthonian, languages old and new, and intricate summoning pentagrams drawn in the old and worn brown pages.  

Magnus’ spellbook.

Alec is definitely going to personally return it to its rightful owner.

He gently closes the book and looks up. Jace is sporting that serious frown, eyebrows knitted together, his jaw tightening as his two-coloured eyes skim through contents written by the man they are desperately hunting for.

Muted anger and confusion passes through the bond, but also some sort of satisfaction, in a _finally_ sort of way, answers long overdue.

Alec decides to leave him be. Jace will talk to him when he’s ready.

A soft surprised gasp somewhere behind Alec catches his attention. He turns to see Clary holding a deep moss green leather book with elegant gilded Victorian designs on the front, completed with a brass latch.

She is not looking at what’s written inside but staring at a corner of the cover, two fingers brushing lightly, reverently, at whatever is embedded there.

Alec walks closer as Clary’s fingers trail across the initials: _RF._

Clary meets his gaze. “I’d like to deliver this to him,” she says determinedly, clutching the book closer to her chest, like she’s afraid it’s going to magically disappear if she doesn’t hold on to it tight enough. “Let me come with you. Please.”

Alec raises an eyebrow at her and thinks she hasn’t given him much of a choice. He tilts his head towards the doorway and walks briskly after her.

Half an hour later, they are sitting on Magnus’ couch, the warlock in the teal armchair opposite them, and a green book in hand.

Magnus had looked surprised when Clary gingerly handed the book to him, quickly recognising the item that belonged to his oldest friend, Ragnor Fell.

The written language inside looks to be the same as what Alec saw in Magnus’ spellbook. It’s similar yet different, where Magnus’ has pentagrams and counter-curses, this one has dimensional diagrams and numeric calculations.

“I’ve known Ragnor for the better part of my life and I’ve only seen his spellbook twice. Both times under his watchful eye and I barely read a full sentence before he demanded it back. Can you believe it? I’m the most fabulous, most competent friend he ever had and he couldn’t even trust me with this little part of his life.” Magnus accuses, but the fond exasperation in his tone and twinkling eyes say otherwise.

Alec carefully watches his boyfriend’s expressions, the elated flicker on his face, the curve of his lips, the faraway look when recalling treasured memories. He watches for any sign of grief or sorrow, because he wants to be there for Magnus when Magnus needs him.

As Magnus continues to flip through the pages, Alec’s concern is justified when Magnus’ face shifts into a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just– this feels strange. I’ve been reading the words but it’s not registering. It’s like you know it’s English but your brain rewires it into a different language.”

“Was it Ragnor? Maybe he enchanted it to protect other warlocks from reading it?” Clary suggests.

“Maybe. I can feel Ragnor’s magic. And…it’s interlaced with mine, which should not happen unless…” Magnus trails off, distracted.

There’s a long pause. “Magnus?”

Magnus visibly jerks upon hearing Alec’s voice. He promptly lifts his palm directly on top of the book, ringed fingers wiggling in purposeful gesture as blue wispy magic flows from left to right.

What was once green leather is now in dark mahogany, the book slightly bigger and bulkier than the previous version.

“This is…the photo album I recovered from Ragnor’s house with the other artefacts after he–” Magnus’ eyes darts away to the side, looking at the floor. He clears his throat, “after he was killed,” he finishes quietly.

Clary looks like she wants to go over and give Magnus a hug but feels guilty as sin at the same time. Magnus misses it, fixated on the book on his lap.

“It’s not so different from the cookbook and the Book of the White,” Magnus explains. “But this is unique. Personalised so that I’m the only one who can reverse the spell he had cast on it. Which means the photo album in my possession is the real spellbook.” Magnus huffs and shakes his head as he says, “It’s such a Ragnor thing to do that I can’t even whine about his chronic paranoia.”

Alec and Clary exchange a look, smiling faintly as they watch Magnus go through the book few pages at a time, all the way to the back half.

Alec sees Magnus go quietly still then, a painted finger lightly underlining black prints. Alec had half expected it to happen when he saw the initials back in the study room, and it still took him by surprise.

Magnus’ dazzling cat eyes are trained on a specific page, reading carefully handwritten cursives. The unshed tears make his eyes shine even brighter, emanating a soft glow, like liquid gold trapped in a clear marble, swirling and twirling around in an endless chase.

Of all the times Alec saw Magnus express through his real eyes – in kindness, anger, love, _passion_ – this is the most difficult to witness, but Alec understands.

This, here, is in honour of a dear friend. A companion. A family.

The shade of gold is gone by the time Alec got up to sit on the arm of the chair beside Magnus, hand rubbing his back up and down in soothing motions.

Clary finally gives Magnus the squeeze hug of all squeeze hugs. Her hand overlapping with Alec’s when she does so.

It was later that night, when they’re alone, curled up under silky bedsheets and warm embrace, that Alec found out there are extra pages added to the original photo album.

It contains Ragnor’s writings about his journey from being accepted as a child to becoming the High Warlock of London to teaching in the Shadowhunter Academy. His thoughts on working with shadowhunters and looking after cocky Herondales. His ‘adventures’ in Peru, and the ridiculous shenanigans that ensues in the company of his two closest friends.

The book is not just a book, it’s a life-long journal.

A memento.

Ragnor trusted Magnus with his life after all.

 

**4.** _A stubborn-willed interloper + tenacious duty-bound soldiers = a band of concerned wayward Shadowhunters. Capisce?_

It’s the incessant ringing that wakes him.

He’s salty, a little hungry, and a whole lot of cranky.

He didn’t even get morning cuddles from his Alexander. Or when he goes to sleep the previous night. Or the entirety of yesterday because Alec has paperwork, meetings to attend, issues to solve and sometimes incompetent staffs to berate.

Whole lot of cranky indeed.

On top of having to survive without Alec-cuddles for a day and a half, he had to postpone all his face-to-face appointments and clear off his schedules that require his presence – and isn’t that unfortunate, losing revenue because of petty pranks – for the next couple of days, and he just got back with Alexander not few days ago and now _this._ Nghhh.

He groans as he lifts his phone to his face. _Isabelle_ is glaring at his face.

He swipes the green button. 

“Unless this involves Alec or someone of equivalent importance dying, I’m not in the mood to indulge, Isabelle.”

“Hello to you too Magnus,” Izzy replies lightly over the phone. “What’s gotten you so sour?”

“Crystallised pixie dust, if you can believe it.”

Izzy hums thoughtfully. “I think I can, but you’ll have to elaborate when you come in in an hour. I’m calling to remind you actually.”

Shit. That’s today?

He had agreed to meet Alec and the others in the Institute for a preliminary meeting before the downworld leaders are to hold an official council next evening. The initial meeting is for Magnus’ benefit, to discuss viable solutions regarding the repercussions of the Seelie Queen siding with Valentine, and of course, his decisions as a warlock representative in the war.  

That’s what he’s supposed to be getting ready for – a meeting which he forgot. Well, he didn’t actually forget, he just had other problems of higher priority. In his defence, it counts as a politically good reason too.

He can’t walk into the Institute _now._ Not when it’s a Shadowhunter headquarters full of (well, most) bigoted shadowhunters still. And certainly not in his condition.

“Isabelle,” he says solemnly. “I’m not trying to evade responsibility, I swear, it is not usually my style, but perhaps I could fire message a list of my opinions and you capable Lightwoods can take it from there?”

There’s a beat of silence before she replies, “Magnus…did something happen? Did the Seelies cause trouble?”

This young woman is too perceptive for her own good Magnus thinks.

When Magnus did not answer, she continues, “You know you can tell us, Magnus. Just portal straight to Alec’s office. We’ll be there anyway. Besides,” Izzy’s tone turns impish, “Alec has been increasingly chastising our poor staffs for a while now. And I’m too invested in your relationship to an unhealthy level that I can recognise the signs by now.” A short pause. “He needs you, Magnus. We all do.”

Magnus sighs internally, pretending the pleasant flutter in his chest is not overwhelming him. “I guess I better start making myself fabulous then.”

He hears Izzy’s carefree laugh on the other end before it transitions to a monophonic dial tone.

Placing his phone on the nightstand, he walks to his wardrobe, picks out pieces of clothing that screams _don’t mess with me_ , grabs a long coat in wine red and conjures the darkest dark-tinted shades to match.

Magnus is really not ashamed of his warlock mark, but centuries of adverse experiences and broken encounters because of them is not exactly easy to get over. It has become a force of habit rather than a chore along the way, and everyone seems happier in the end. He considers himself fortunate that he only has his eyes to worry about, especially right now.

He figures there’s no need for apprehension or blatant stares where he can help it. Or unnecessary aggravation, lest his golden orbs end up in a saline-filled jar sitting atop a shelf in a musty room somewhere.

After one last check in the mirror, he portals right outside Alec’s office, not wanting to bump into unfamiliar faces before reaching his destination.

Voices drift from the other side of the slightly opened door. He knocks and pushes the rustic mahogany to step inside, and waves the door shut before anyone can say anything.

Magnus is immediately greeted with an armful of Alexander – his favourite kind of greeting – and a quick peck on his cheek. Alec pulls back but remains close, arms around Magnus’ waist.

He vaguely hears the _awws_ in the background but all he wants to pay attention to is the handsome, handsome man standing in front of him. He’s glad Alec has grown comfortable enough in his own skin to show small public display of affections like this.

It’s a little regretful that Alec’s full-fledged smile is hindered by a pair of sunglasses. It’s not very appealing to see the world in hues of black and grey, even though his sight is unaffected.

“Magnus,” Alec breathes, as though he’s been wanting to say his name for the longest time. “Uhm…that,” he gestures to Magnus’ eyes, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Alexander. Nothing to worry about,” he says, walking over to the couch with Alec in tow. Izzy and Clary are sitting in the chairs across the room, and Jace is leaning casually against the bookshelf near the couch.

Magnus doesn’t need to confirm with his eyes to know Alec and Jace are staring at him brazenly from the side. He supposes the yellow glow of his eyes are reflected against the lens of his sunglasses, making it even more obvious.

“Those are some pretty dark shades to wear indoors, Magnus. Are you sure can see anything with it on?”

Blondie gets a narrow-eyed glare from Alec for that one.

Magnus briefly considers slipping the sunglasses off the bridge of his nose, then promptly decided against it. Putting his penchant for dramatics aside, he knows from personal experience that Shadowhunters do not comprehend the concept of knocking. Anyone might come barging in this very moment.

Except Alexander, of course. He’s polite like that. And kind. And strong. And all sorts of ama- wait, did he lock the door?

Hm, it’s a little too late to rectify without drawing attention.

When he hears no one attempting to interrupt his internal monologue, Magnus realise they were all waiting for his answer.

“Perfectly,” Magnus snarks, looking over Alec’s shoulder to stare Jace down. Not that Jace can see Magnus staring him down.

Izzy pulls her chair a little closer to Magnus and leans forward, arms resting on her thighs. “Magnus, it’s _okay.”_ She emphasises the ‘okay’ to get Magnus to understand.

And Magnus does understand. Except, not everyone is named Isabelle Sophia Lightwood.

A strong yet tender hand on his back is possibly all the push he needs. He doesn’t take off the sunglasses though. Besides Alec and Catarina, he’s never unglamoured his eyes in front of people for long periods of time. Also, the door is still unlocked.

“Alright, alright. I’ll spill. And I assure you, I was not injured or physically harmed so there’s no need to go mother hen on me.”

Magnus tells them the event that transpired yesterday outside Hunter’s Moon. Luke Garroway had asked Magnus out for a friendly drink, and Magnus had obliged seeing he did leave the celebratory party early (with obvious reasons) after Valentine’s demise and was unable to catch up with the werewolf.

They were stepping out the door about to head home when Magnus saw a young fae lurking nearby. The fae had marched menacingly up to them as soon as she saw Luke. It was instinctual reflex on Magnus’ part once he eyed the glittering purple-red dust in her hand.

The dust is harmless by itself but in its crystallised form, acts as a powerful catalyst for fae magic that temporarily reveals a downworlder’s true nature. No potions or spells can reverse it until the magic runs its course.

Meaning Luke would have been stuck in his werewolf form for several days on end, which does not bode well for an Alpha with a day job.  

“Oh my God, you threw yourself in front of Luke, didn’t you?” Clary asks, horrified.

“Yes,” Magnus confirms. “I looked like a poorly decorated Christmas ornament. It clashes with my blue streaks I had in my hair.”

Izzy cannot contain the sound bubbling in her throat and bursts out laughing. “Pixie dust,” she wheezes. “ _Of course._ ”

“Izzy, it’s not that funny. It could have been something dangerous.” Alec says, trying but failing to hide the smile in the corner of his mouth.

Magnus chuckles. “It is a little bit funny if you think about it. It’s nothing I can’t handle, darling.”

“Why Luke?” Jace asks, curious.

“I suspect petty revenge for slugging some Seelies when he was looking for Maia in the Wonder Woods. If the plan had gone accordingly, Lucian would most likely be chastised for his absence or accused of hostility if he shows up in wolf form at the council tomorrow.”

“Wow. You really saved his ass, Magnus. Thank you.” Clary says, voice sincere and grateful.

“I’ve been thanked enough by the man himself.” – and Luke did, repeatedly, even offering complimentary Chinese takeout for a month – “You’re welcome, biscuit.”

Alec grips his hand lightly to get his full attention. “What about you? Are you going to be okay tomorrow?”

Magnus turns his hand so that his palm is up and squeezes back. “Don’t worry, my darling. I’m not a warlock for nothing. My magic lessens the effect to a certain degree. I’ll be fine hours before the council meeting starts.”

“Hey, even if it doesn’t work, make sure you show up. I’m aching to break some noses.” Jace offers, pulling that smile-smirk only Jace can pull off.

“Oooh yes, count me in!” Izzy chirps, giving his adopted brother a wink. Beside her, Clary nods enthusiastically in agreement. Maybe _too_ enthusiastically.

“You know as Head of Institute, I’m the one who has to take responsibility if you do break any noses right?” Alec addresses his team. They look at him incredulously, like someone had snatched away their new toy before they had an opportunity to play with it. “But just for this, I’ll approve,” he adds.

The room fills with whoops and laughter.

Magnus glance at the group that he has come to know and care for: the smug but confident Jace, overzealous but well-intentioned Clarissa, independent yet fragile Isabelle, and finally, his gaze lands and stays on his lovely Alexander. His Alexander who loves _him_ whole-heartedly. Who told him he couldn’t live without him.

He shakes his head slowly, unable to stop a fond smile from spreading across his face.

He always thought getting acceptance from the one person he loves most was more than he deserved. But getting acceptance from people who mattered to him, and him to them in return, is evidently, more than enough.

_These children will be the death of me._ And probably a couple of vamp-ies elsewhere.

And no, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

**+1.** _Because out of everyone at the party that night, his eyes trained on you._

Alec walks back to the ops room after showing the Seelie escorts to the door. The meeting had gone longer than expected, the sun already making its gradual descend in the west.

He sits himself behind a monitor, positions his hand for a chin-rest and peers at Magnus and Izzy conversing above the stairs, relieve that the effects of fae magic has faded without any problems.

He had accompanied Magnus home yesterday, with Magnus having to reassure him every five minutes that he’s fine and nothing hurts. It was supposed to be a short trip before Alec had to go back to the Institute to finalise the plans.

Instead, he showered, changed into fresh clean clothes, had delicious Cuban cuisine (because how can he not when its Magnus Bane asking him to dinner?), cuddled and traded unhurried kisses on the couch, and then the fresh clean clothes had ended up on their bedroom floor afterwards.

So yes, Alec got his fill of appreciative ogling, held captive by those yellow-gold feline eyes.

It reminded him of their first time.

When Magnus had lurched back mid-kiss and turned entirely away from him, Alec’s heart froze like warmth has been leeched out of him all at once, the coldness spreading out to numb his fingertips. It hurt. He had thought maybe Magnus didn’t want it. Didn’t want _him._

He had mentally kicked himself for being unprepared. For being horribly inexperienced that he probably did something wrong somewhere. Something Magnus didn’t approve and found revolting that he had to physically separate himself from Alec.

But he cared too much to let the moment go. He had to ask, just in case.

And he was glad he did.

Magnus had never showed his mark so openly for Alec to see, and Alec never asked, not once. He knew things like that – things that make a person a foundation of who they are, should be shared like opening a worn out diary, carefully and willingly.

Alec had to take a moment to breathe before saying the words held in his heart, waiting to be freed. The look Magnus gave him – as though he wondered if this love between them could be real, if _Alec_ was _real_ – was worth everything.

As he looks at Magnus bathed in strips of sunlight filtering through the tinted glass of the cathedral in soft halos, Alec thinks not only his eyes, but his heart, his spirit, his soul, are all wonderfully golden.

He must have been staring longer than he thought, because Magnus turns his head, just a little, in his direction, the faint light hitting Magnus’ eyes _just_ right and for a split second he sees the gold peeking out of the brown irises.

He feels a blush starting in his cheek, creeping up his neck as Magnus smiles coyly at him, like he knows exactly what he was thinking.

He sees Izzy stop mid-sentence and follows Magnus’ gaze. He sees Izzy roll her eyes, like _she_ knows what’s going on, and saunters off with a cheeky grin on her face.

And if a fleeting vision of Magnus dressed in gold crept its way into his mind during the whole silent exchange, well.

Nobody has to know.

_Yet._

 

**+2.** _Because he looked you in the eye anyway, and said you’re beautiful._

Today is a good day.

Why?

Because it’s one of the rare mornings where Magnus is awake before Alec is.

They lay facing each other, close enough to touch, but not touching.

Magnus takes his time to admire the pretty eyelashes resting delicately on Alec's cheekbones. Those full, saccharine lips ready to be kissed. That defined jawline with a hint of stubble. The attractive bold contrast of his deflect rune against pale skin.

Magnus takes his time admiring and he waits.

He waits for those eyelids to flutter open, blinks once, twice, revealing glassy myriad of colours.

A sleepy lopsided smile spreads across Alec’s face as hazel meets yellow-gold.

He knows Alec adores his cat eyes. It does something funny to Alec’s heart and cherry blossom pink dusts his cheeks every time Magnus drops the glamour.

He should know, because looking at Alec does the same thing to him.

Alec says his eyes are beautiful and unique. Magnus thinks Alec’s are even more special.

It’s mesmerising how his irises seem to pick up whatever colour was near and assimilate it – like how the green of his shirt brings out the individual strands of olive green and amber to the surface, then the striations give way to light brown and marigold in the bright sunlight.

It’s fascinating. And he always sees hope in Alec’s eyes whenever Magnus chooses to share a part of himself. An emotion he couldn’t identify during their early relationship, because he didn’t understand why it would be there.

Now, he realises Alec had hoped that one day Magnus would crumble those walls and let him inside, bit by bit. Alec had continued hoping every time he looks at Magnus.

Hoping for a _future_ together.

And who is Magnus to deny that?

He loves that he gets to wake up to those hazels, to the _I love you, I love your eyes, I love all of you_ etched in those eyes, loves how they lit up and focuses on Magnus’ face like it does now.

“Come closer,” he whispers, and Alec does.

He melts into Alec’s warm embrace, feels a soft kiss on his temple, and relaxes against the constant _ba-thump ba-thump_ of Alec’s heartbeat.

His own heart beats faster by his side than anyone’s. But he’s also the most at peace.


End file.
